


Song of the Fallen

by Chasingstardust22



Series: "Song of the" [1]
Category: No Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 21:42:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11322312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chasingstardust22/pseuds/Chasingstardust22
Summary: Zari Oneye is a golden child. She is punctual, never complains, and she doesn’t ask too many questions. Even when her best friend accidentally makes her a criminal.(A dystopian story I wrote for a school project. Suggestions welcomed and appreciated)





	Song of the Fallen

**One**

_“Zari!”_

With a hastily-muffled scream I tumbled off my bed, landing bottom-first on the hard metallic ground. My blanket cocoon did little to break the fall, instead being more concerned with keeping my arms pinned in place.

“Hurry up! We’re going to be late!”

“Late?” I struggled to free myself. “Jenara, it’s ten o’clock. I’m supposed to be _asleep._ What on Earth could we possibly be late for?”

The fall had been enough to get the Activator’s attention; my room was bathed in bright blue light, casting shadows everywhere, and as I stood I could quite clearly see Jenara. She was hovering right outside my window, dressed like she had just come from the early 2000s; shiny brown cargo pants, a beaded black choker, and a thin, neon blue tank top.

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” she scoffed. “It’s annoying.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She blinked. “You don’t…Zari?”

“Yeah?”

“When was the last time you checked your page?”

“Uh…Not since I got sick last week…”

“Last week,” Jenara repeated, shaking her head in disbelief. “You haven’t been online all week.”

I nodded.

“You’re an idiot.”

That would’ve hurt if I hadn’t already heard it a million times before.

Pinching the bridge of her nose with one hand, Jenara dug into her jean pocket and pulled out her phone with the other. “Mind if I come in?”

I bit my lip. “You…You really aren’t supposed to be here, Jen…”

Somehow this translated as _“sure, come on in!”_ to Jenara, because she bent low and willed her hoverboard to let her inside. She landed beside me with a gentle hiss.

“Ah, that’s better!” she exclaimed, not troubling herself to lower her voice. With a snap of her fingers, the board shifted back into the bottoms of her 10-inch heels. “God, I hate hoverboarding here.”

“You aren’t supposed to hoverboard here,” I muttered, hurrying to close the window I had been dumb enough to leave open, “that’s why you hate it.”

“I think it has more to do with the tree outside your window,” Jenara replied. “It’s always getting in my way. Seriously, why do you even _have_ that old relic?”

I shrugged. “To keep hoverboarders away, I guess. That’s what my mother says, at least.”

“That’s stupid.”

“So you’ve said.” I sat down on my bed, pulling my knees to my chest. “Alright, what’s this about a party?”

Grinning, Jenara shoved her phone under my nose. “Read up. It’s all anyone’s been talking about these days.”

Nervous, I leaned away from her. Being online at this hour was a big no-no with my mother. I wasn’t even supposed to be awake. She may not have been home, but that didn’t mean the rules went with her.

Jenara moved the phone a bit closer. “Well go on then! Read!”

“J-Jen—”

“I will not take no for an answer on this, Zari.”

She wouldn’t. I knew all too well that she wouldn’t.

Taking a deep breath, I leaned forward again and peered at the too-bright screen.

**Ellie’s 18th is tonight. It’s shaping up to be a howler—loud music, drinks, the works. We’ve even got some old stuff we looted from my Uncle. Might actually be worth something.** ****  
**Are you coming?** ****  
**☐ Yes** **  
** **☐ No**

“…Who’s Ellie?”

“Don’t know,” Jenara said. “Don’t know the guy, either.”

I frowned. “And that doesn’t bother you?”

“Of course it doesn’t. A party’s a party, Zari.”

In all honesty, I should have seen that response coming. Jenara was my best friend, but she was two years younger than I was, and in moments like this, it showed. Her parents (Mrs. & Mrs. Irresponsible, as my mother liked to call them) were fine with her doing stuff like going to a stranger’s party. So long as she didn’t cause too much trouble, they didn’t care. She claimed it was because they trusted her. Having met them, I wasn’t so sure.

_My_ mother was nothing like them. She was a government official, a high-ranking one at that, and she had bestowed upon me a great respect for the rules and for my superiors. It was because of her that I knew not to ask too many questions, to look out for others and do the right thing. Jenara thought she was too controlling, but she hardly knew her. I did.

When I was a baby, only a few days old, my father disappeared. He was an official as well, holding the position that was now my mother’s, so for him to vanish was highly unusual. My mother said she had searched frantically, left no stone unturned, but after a while she was forced to give up. There was no trace of him. He was just…gone.

For her efforts, my mother was given my father’s old position. She took it with honor, and vowed to finish what my father had started. She told me that moving on wasn’t easy, but her job and I needed her to be strong. So she pulled herself back together and carried on with her life.

But she was never the same.

She laughed less, she worked more, and bit by bit she stopped coming home. Once I turned ten, I hardly ever saw her.

Jenara’s birth mom had once told me that it was my fault—I looked too much like my father. We had the same red hair, the same brown eyes, and the same gentle smile.

“It hurts her to see you,” she’d drawled, taking another long swig of hypervodka, “because you’re nothing like her. You remind her of everything she lost.”

Deep down, I couldn’t help but believe her.

My mother wasn’t home tonight; she hadn’t been home all week. From what little I had managed to understand from the hologram she sent tonight, her boss had her working on something big. If I went to a party, and just kept to myself, she would never know.

…Oh my god. I must be spending too much time with Jenara’s parents— _I’m becoming like her._

“Well?” Jenara prompted, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Earth to Zari? Do you copy?”

_“You know how it is, Zari,”_ my mother’s voice said in my ear. _“The people look up to us. You cannot be dragged down to their level—you must pull them up to yours. Do you understand?”_

“Yeah…” I said, as much to Jenara as to my mother’s voice. “I can’t, Jen.”

“Why not?!”

“I…I’m still sick,” I lied, faking a cough. “You…you really wouldn’t want me there—”

Jenara made to slap me; I only just managed to dodge.

“H-hey!”

“Zari Oneye, you are the worst liar in the freaking universe. This is about your _mother_.”

I flinched, but tried to gather my courage. “A-And so what if it is? She’s counting on me, Jen—”

“You _always_ say that.” Her expression became imploring. “Come on Zari, you’re nineteen years old and you never _do_ anything! Don’t you think you deserve a little bit of fun? Just this once?”

“I…I…”

My heart raced. A thousand what-ifs flashed through my mind, each more terrifying than the last. My mother’s voice echoed through all of them, calling out to me:

_“Please Zari, I’m counting on you.”_

_“I can trust you, can’t I?”_

_“Jenara is wild, no denying it. Perhaps you should guide her towards a safer path…”_

_“Don’t you know what you could be risking?”_

“I…I have…”

Vaguely, I heard a sigh. “Zari, if you don’t go, I will be there on my own. Me. Left to my own devices.”

Like magic, my mother’s voice dulled into a background noise. Jenara going to a party by herself was the very worst possible outcome.

“…I have no choice.”

Jenara grinned, looking remarkably like the cat that caught the canary. “So you’ll come?”

I nodded, wiping beads of sweat off of my forehead.

“Prove it.” She shoved her phone into my chest. “ _You_ do the honors.”

Fingers trembling, heart pounding, I grasped the screen and, ignoring the disappointment in my mother’s voice, I shakily pressed ‘yes’.


End file.
